कई किनारे छोड़ दिए

तुझे पाने की चाह में
ए जिन्दगी,
मैंने सैलाबों पर चलना सीख लिया,
गर तू ना मिली आखिर
तेरी खोज को मुकाम समझ लेंगे।

Time Flies

You wonder where time flies and fall back upon memories to take you back in time.

How different were you, when you first started school or when you first rode your bi-cycle? Your friends from school, some of who are still standing by your side. Your friends from college who are proud of you today. The day you got married, holding hand of someone who promised to be your friend for life, you took a leap of faith and promised him the same. Your kids, first time when your heard them cry. Their first step holding your hands and when the first time you dropped them to school, leaving a part of yourself at the school gate wondering if your little one is doing alright.

Life goes on . . .  and some of these memories become a part of your soul.

And a few others that you live carelessly.

Like, smelling a red rose.

Like, reading your favourite author while sipping a cup of tea. Planting a seed and watch it grow flowers in time. A dog bathing and yawning in the sun after a cold night. A lonely walk in the garden. Meditating and realizing your uniqueness. Sound of your children playing in the veranda. Gently holding hands of your partner with a feeling that everything will fall in place if you have him by your side and to have company of your parents when your world is falling apart.

Sometimes, it’s not about how old or how long have your lived. Sometimes, it’s just about small moments worth your lifetime.

The Watchman

I don’t know his name yet, but I want to tell you about him as I see his face everyday. When I go to work, when I come back home in the evening or, afternoons during the weekends when I go to the market. His face is not attractive, its not unpleasant either, but his uniform surely does not compliment his age. He must be younger or of the same age as mine.

He works 12 hours a day siting on a plastic chair and old rusty desk provided by the so called housing society. But I am pleased to see the he has a desk to himself on which he maintains a register and the drawer to lock his personal belongings. Recently, CCTVs were installed and he was the most excited person in the entire building as this allowed him to get away from his desk for a little longer if he desired.

He is fond of cricket and is always ready to strike upon a conversation with the inmates having good knowledge on the sport. He is a patriot in a true sense: one can seen him jump with excitement or heated with anger post match results. Usually his large screen phone keeps him company. He likes to indulge with his small circle of friends on Facebook, many of them he has never met or known in real life. He claims to have followers on Twitter too. And not to forget, he survives on youtube and such channels to enjoy streaming of good old melodies and live streaming of his favorite sport. From my recent interactions with him, which are very rare, I remember him enquire about a spare guitar after he heard me play near the window. To engage him, I offered to arrange a guitar for him, of which I am reminded now and then.

He sleeps in one of the servant quarters at the terrace of our building and given he has no privilege of holidays, it would not be wrong to assume that he is bored and looking for company. But I cannot be his friend. No one in the building can. He is never invited to our house and neither is he a part of our festivals, no matter how much his contributions to bring our celebrations to life. For us, he is a distant stranger and yet the one we see everyday bounded by his duty to guard us and the so called society. Occasionally, we offer him money during festivals or New year eve as a form of goodwill and gesture, assuming money is something he is deprived of the most. He smiles back at us with a thank you and we know our job is done. He deserves more than just our money. He deserves companionship.

And may he find the little joys of comfort in your passing by hello's. Companionship is priceless!

The man on the footpath

A man on the footpath re-arranges his merchandise kept on the floor, while SK and I walk down the road. I have enjoyed these thought provoking discussions (in my mind), rather small chats (in reality) with SK who in-spite of complaining about not having an ideal career growth is always optimistic about the future. His eagerness and desire to do something worthy in life has always motivated me, and so, my thoughts handed me over the key to a small but bizarre fantasy drawer in my mind-space. I think about that something worthy for me. I know being a published writer someday is one of them.

The man on the footpath now looks at me with sheer desperateness and his eyes tell me that business has not been good for him. His torn clothes re-affirms the fact. But I pay no attention to his sorrow, as I am in no urgent need of a notebook or a calendar.

Having reached home we both get back to our lives; SK indulges himself with his favorite soap, where as, I turn back to the leftover page of the book which is kept upside down on the study.

‘I need to write more frequently’, I tell myself with the same desperateness as the man.

I indeed need his notebook and calendar as much as he wanted me to have them.  The universe has its way of silently warning you.

Cortege on the road

Saw a cortege today while driving to work, a rare sight on the Mumbai Highways.
Couldn't see the face buried in marigold garland but the body rapped with a bright shiny piece of white cloth, stood out, in the rally of people marching together. The son, barefooted, held a small pot of fire in his strong hands took confidant steps.

Traffic in charge made all efforts to make a way but the cars kept moving. Naturally, why give way to a dead man in this busy life, for he has already reached his destination.

Uncertainty

The uncertainty of life knocked my door today. A 30 seconds phone call that a distant relative passed away, and that was it – a medical problem.

How simply and quietly a word 'passed-away' washes away an individual from your life creating a void that can only be filled with gentle blessings of time. The gates of memory open only to flood your imagination with disheartening thoughts. This loss, this tragic loss of life - can it ever be unimpaired?

Noting can fill the hollow that you feel - no sympathies, no words of wisdom, even the best of memories with that individual will turn their back against you and turn into a sad remembering. The mind goes into a limbo touching the deepest part of your brain and flashes you with events from the past.

No matter how miserable you feel, the departed will never come back. You can only addle your mind, but in these times you don’t want to feel better and submerge yourself into a deep void of emptiness.

Someplace, deep inside me, I am conscious of the thought that life is short and precious, and I would like to think that my tiny drop like existence in this ocean is dream life for many - a loving and caring family, good friends, education, enjoyable workplace, good food, hobbies, music, books are some of the things that have space in my life which many in this country starve for.

I am a happy and content man; I realize it now even more. But, I am determined - to be more humble and simple, to take more chances, to travel more, to respect and love, and most of all to be healthy and fit.

RIP! My distant relative.

Bittu

Bittu came with two bags full of cloths and plenty of hopes to make his internship a success. His athletic build and thick eyebrows surely do injustice to his shy and simple personality, but his voice and smile will win over your heart.

With most of the space occupied by my large bed, study and the keyboard, he adjusted quite well in my small room within the little leftover space, trying not to discomfort me in anyway.

Seeing him uneasy while moving stuff from his bags multiple times reminded me of the hard time when I had to live in my suitcase. So, I offered him to create some space in the cupboards and managed to clear two racks for his day-to-day movements.

Today, when I came back home in the evening, I was surprised to see that within the limited space I provided him, he kept one-forth of the space occupied with a beautiful picture of Lord Ganesha, while adjusting his stuff in the remaining part.

Makes me think – It doesn’t matter how grand your life is . . . but what matters is, who you share it with, no matter how ordinary it may be!

Annoying Monday

This Monday afternoon is not the usual as it should have been, had it not been a long weekend. This one does not seem to run away like a normal holiday, as a matter of fact it’s quite slow and lazy.

The house is asleep in the midst of this discomforting Mumbai heat which is increasing exponentially day by day. AC’s are yet to be installed, so our hope relies completely on the ceiling fans, which seems to have slowed down in anguish of not being offered a break.

While heat is a matter of discomfort, I am more turned down by the loud snoring noise made by my flatmate, shrouding our living room with his vibrations. Stand near him for 2 minutes while he is asleep and I guarantee that any normal person will get alarmed and high.

‘How can he sleep in this heat?’ - I question him, while talking to myself and as I decide to lie down for a nap, the volume of his snoring goes up a level. Disgusted and eventually giving up I turn towards my cell phone and record his cruelty, which I propose to be used in the Himalayan forest against wild animals. Why hurt them, when you can annoy them?